


Run - run - run - jump - now breathe

by iarrannme



Series: Planting and other stories [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Peter Parker, Character Study, Emotional Baggage, Emotions, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Love, Multi, POV Peter Parker, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home Mid-Credits Scene, Protective Happy, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Spider-Man Identity Reveal, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-14 02:56:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20593532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iarrannme/pseuds/iarrannme
Summary: “Peter, no, are you kidding?  Securityjustfinished installing everything here!  Everybody knows who you are!  Why patrol now?”He finished texting Ned –guy in the chair ready to go?“I’ve already been gone too long.  Someone’ll definitely try something tonight, they’ll count on me hiding after this afternoon. At least this suit’s bulletproof?”“That’d be more reassuring if bullets were my worst fear.”This fic begins during the afternoon of Scene 1 inO the strength of webs we weaveand overlaps with the first chapter ofPlanting.  You can read it alone, but it does refer to events and characters from the others.





	1. Somethin’ I could do ’sides yell/when that Beck betrayed me

**Author's Note:**

> Titles are based on Yoda’s ["Seagulls (Stop It Now!)"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U9t-slLl30E) by Bad Lip Reading.

“Peter, no, are you kidding? Security _just_ finished installing everything here! Everybody knows who you are! Why patrol now?”

He finished texting Ned – _guy in the chair ready to go?_ “I’ve already been gone too long. Someone’ll definitely try something tonight, they’ll count on me hiding after this afternoon. At least this suit’s bulletproof?”

“That’d be more reassuring if bullets were my worst fear.” May clenched her fists, then hugged him for a long moment. “I hate this, I love you, trust your instincts, go save a cat.” She let him go, adding, “Midnight.” He drew a breath, but she cut him off. “_Midnight_.”

“All right. I’ll tap on your wall when I get in.” There were more people on the sidewalks than usual, some staring openly at his apartment windows.

Ugh. Fine. Roof.

May raised her eyebrows when he headed for the door in his suit, texting again. _Yo hatman, swingin time, find me some crime_.

“Paparazzi.”

“I’ll papa-rot _them_,” May muttered darkly, and the stupid word-play made him laugh, same as always.

“Now that’s something I _ought see_,” he came back. When she rolled her eyes and told him to get out before she got the Raid, he knew she was all right.

He stepped into the hall, mask undeployed. The neighbors either knew or would soon anyway. If the criminals he’d put away knew Mysterio had lied, surely his actual neighbors would believe him? Happy wanted them to move upstate, but how could May do her job from there? How could Spider-Man do his? And being so far from Ned and MJ – no. Not going there.

Klahan was stepping out of his apartment as Peter reached the door to the stairwell. His eyebrows went up. “Not hiding anymore, huh? Good for you. Get outta the closet.” He winked.

“How long have you –”

Klahan rolled his eyes. “Dude, Abi and I might be in sleep-deprived baby hell, but we aren’t blind. Six months of all-hours walks with a colicky baby, you see some things. Pro tip? Blue and red do _not_ blend in to the side of this building.” He grinned. “At first I thought you and Spidey were hooking up and I was torn between respecting your privacy and talking to May. But you got that kid’s Frisbee out of a tree like ten feet from me. Once I heard Spidey’s voice I was like, ohhhhh. So I went home and squealed and fanboyed to Abi. Then we both shut up about it.”

“Oh.” How many other people had been protecting him all along and he hadn’t even known? “Uh, thanks, really. Tell Abi thanks too. And, uh, if you need a break and you’d trust me with Sasithorn, or a midnight diaper run, I can always swing by your window.”

Klahan smiled. “Be safe out there.” He clattered down the stairs.

Peter climbed them more slowly, trying not to trip while he texted because MJ would never let him hear the end of it. _NED youre making me worry cmon dude_. The mask formed itself around his face as he stopped to listen before stepping out onto the roof. Two heartbeats not far from the door. Something odd about their rhythm. He frowned. “Karen?” he murmured. “The people outside – armed?”

“One is.”

His … tingle … wasn’t tingling, but… “Can you access the feed from the roof security cameras?”

Visible-light and false-color thermal images popped up: Nick Fury, standing there with…him. Peter. Himself. Director Fury was holding a phone to his ear, and looked as impatient as he usually did when Peter saw him. His phone vibrated.

There was something... “Magnify thermal image of their heads, strip out the background, use the full color scale for just that range.” Yes…faint lines of warmth on their skulls that didn’t follow human contours.

His phone buzzed again. Unknown Caller. On Karen's images, “Fury” tightened his mouth, then jabbed his phone. Peter’s incoming call went away.

“Fury” spoke loudly to the empty air. “I know you’re in the stairwell, Mr. Parker, there’s a camera looking right at you. Don’t make me come in there.”

Peter worried at his bottom lip. Was his tingle broken again? He couldn’t stay here, or go back down the stairs; “Fury” probably would try the door, and Peter didn’t want him any closer to the building’s residents. To May. He spoke quietly. “Karen? I’m going out, but those two aren’t human. If things go sideways, call Happy and the police immediately. Show them the weird thermals, then warn May not to open the door to _anyone_ without asking for something only she and that person know.”

“Got it, Peter. Shall I activate Instant Kill mode?”

“What is it with you and Instant Kill? Do you need a playlist of harp music?” He nudged the door open, listening. Nothing changed. He stepped out, but stopped several feet away from them.

“Ghosting doesn’t work when I’m right here, Mr. Parker.”

“You’re not Director Fury. And _you_ – if you go in there and try to fool May, try to hurt her, I’ll – ” In the sunset light his enhanced sight picked out the faintest of stripes on their skin, about where the alien contours had shown through in infrared. It was easier to see on fake-Fury’s bald head than through “his own” hair. “You’re not human,” he said flatly, and the damn Peter-tingle _still_ wasn’t saying anything; he felt like he should be screaming at it instead of the other way around.

Fake-Fury and fake-him both blinked, then fake-him smiled at him – smiled! A genuinely friendly smile, he knew how it felt on his own face – and laid a gentle hand on fake-Fury’s arm. “We have to tell him more than we planned on, love,” fake-him said.

He could feel his own horrified expression under the mask at the sight of himself acting all…_touchy_…with Director Fury, fake or not. Director Fury was way too old and scary for him to think about that way. “Eww,” he said, taking a step back.

Fake-Fury looked more thunderously annoyed than ever, but fake-him burst out laughing. “Sorry, I’ll try to stay in character better. I thought I did quite well in Europe. Agent Hill says so much with so little, she's a wonderful challenge.”

Fake-Fury looked completely exasperated. “Must you tell him _everything_? It’s going to be unpleasant enough explaining all this to Fury without pushing things even further off the rails!”

“This can't wait. Peter, my name is Soren. I’m skipping details unless we get authorization from Director Fury – which won't happen, that man doesn’t even like to tell _himself_ things – but we’re covering for him and Agent Hill right now. You’re right, we’re not human, but we are here to help you. Public sightings of Peter Parker and Spider-Man together. Mr. Hogan will have the video source traced and discredited in the next few hours and it would be ideal to have both strategies ready to go together.”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose through his mask, trying to squeeze ten thousand questions into one or two. _Can I trust you?_ What were they going to say, “no”? He settled for “Why? Why are shapeshifting aliens helping Director Fury?”

Soren and fake-Fury glanced at each other. Soren said quietly, “Captain Marvel saved our lives, our daughter’s life, all of us – years ago – Fury helped her. Didn’t kill us, when he could have. Believed in us, when he didn’t have to.” That explained the odd reverence “Fury” had shown for her name.

She sounded so sincere. He wished he could kick the tires on his tingle. If its silence was wrong – how many shapeshifters were there? What else could they be doing, who else – oh no. He yanked his phone out. Still no reply from Ned. He did his best to glare. “You two stay right there and don’t move.” He hammered out text after text to MJ, keeping his wording vague, in case...

_are you ok_  
_tell me youre ok_  
_may is fine_  
_happy has her in a safe place_  
_is ned ok_  
_did you find ned_  
_hes not answering texts_

He could feel sounds becoming more intrusive as he sent and sent with no answer. The touch of his suit everywhere on his skin went from ignorable background to inescapable. He hadn’t had a real sensory overload in a long time, but he knew anxiety and overload fed each other and if he didn’t break out of this soon – he forced himself to take deep breaths, trying to be unobtrusive, trying to calmly acknowledge each sensation without assigning emotion to it, then let it go. It always sounded so easy –

_both fine_  
_busy_  
_betty got morita to let us use the media lab_

Oh thank every god in Asgard and beyond. Unless they – he didn’t stop to dwell on who “they” might be, beyond maybe-probably shapeshifters – had her, had her phone, were pretending to be her –

“Peter, your heart rate is accelerating significantly. Please take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Relax your abdominal muscles,” Karen said calmly in his ear. He ignored her and kept texting.

_??_

_sock-sneezing preparations_  
_ive never pwned a dead dude before_  
_well some old dead white guy philosophers i guess_  
_anyway gotta go_

He was startled into laughter. It didn’t seem likely a shapeshifter would have been impersonating MJ all the way since, what, before their date? And no one else sounded like her, no one else thought like her, no one else _was_ her. He could feel his thudding heart rate calm. He was glad the mask hid the smile he could feel spreading across his face. His fingers still felt a little clumsy, but his pulse no longer felt like it was going to burst through his skin.

_k_  
_can i see you later_  
_maybe you can tell me about the sex_  
_SOCKS_  
_OMG SOCKS_  
_I SWEAR I TYPED SOCKS_  
_the phone autocorrected i swear oh god im gonna die_

_told you not to text and swing_  
_bet tony made your phone autocorrect for what youre thinking_  
_ill tell you when_

_k_  
_wait_  
_you mean when to find you tonight_  
_right_  
_?_

_yeah that too ;)_

_uh_  
_heh_  
_wow_  
_ok_

_i kinda cant believe i just said that  
gonna blame the adrenalin_

_i REALLY like you_

_i know_

“Mr. Parker, if you’re _quite_ done,” said fake-Fury, and wow, maybe Soren was willing to break character a little but this one sure wasn’t.

He looked at them. Still no tingle; he had to decide without it. Or trust its absence. He tapped his fingers on his phone.

For the first time since London, he thought back to the bridge on purpose, instead of trying to avoid it. When Mysterio had dared him to come get the glasses and then unleashed illusory darkness, he’d had to trust that the tingle would be there. He hadn’t felt anything shift, no magical moment of rightness or certainty. But he’d moved, and his memory and his body and his senses had been there for him, telling him which way to go and what to do so quickly he couldn’t wrap words around the memory of it, just an endless flow of sensation-decision-movement.

If not for the drones and the betrayal, he might have loved it. Like web-swinging an obstacle course. With his eyes shut. _Yeah, dumbass, if not for the bad parts it would have been good_. He’d hoped to share a taste of that with MJ on their date today – _Focus_. He closed his eyes.

At the end, when Mysterio – his mind tried to shy away, but he resolutely came back to the memory, trying to think of it like doing science: choose your question, then observe. Was it the tingle that said to grab for empty space instead of the glasses? Or was it him, his own mind, his own judgment?

He couldn’t remember a moment of identifiable, separate tingle. He couldn’t remember anything _but_ tingle. Had there been a ghost of a breeze on his cheek from Mysterio raising his gun? The tiniest flick of an eye or briefest tone in Mysterio’s voice, a featherweight shift in the floor that didn’t match what he saw? Would he have noticed or understood if he hadn’t already feared another betrayal? It had just all come together: knowledge-sensation-attention-decision-movement.

And after, when MJ found him – no tingle there either, and if being able to break his heart with a shrug or a look or a word didn’t count as potential danger then he wanted his money back on the stupid tingle. He’d leapt into that conversation with no more assurances than the drone battle, overwhelmed with relief that she was alive and maybe still a little high from all the _leap, flow, survive_ he’d just done, senses still shuddering with adrenalin, seeing every subtle shade of color in her, every twitch of eyebrow or lip, hearing every catch in voice or breath or heartbeat, and – it had been enough.

He opened his eyes. He could still see the faint stripes on their skin, though just barely as the light faded. He could still hear their hearts, the spacing of the beats ever so slightly different.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, relaxing his abdominal muscles. Karen would be proud. “All right,” he said. “All right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my headcanon, Peter and Ned have spent at least one Saturday afternoon karaoke-ing and dancing to "Seagulls (Stop It Now)", and once Ned knew Peter was Spider-Man he made Peter do the flips and a one-handed handstand with a stuffed Yoda figure balanced on his foot, because of course.


	2. Just hold your breath and see/when the time is right

“Easy enough,” said Talos, who’d admitted his name after Soren prodded him. “We bring in the media, Soren and your aunt pal around and answer questions, you swing in and web anybody who says ‘but they could have any random dude under that mask.’ She’ll change her voice a little since Spidey’s been recorded with yours.”

Peter sighed. Webbing criminals to walls and helping cats was right. This felt…not right.

“You and May prep me first,” Soren said. “People will try to trip me up, but as long as I’ve got basic facts and some details and anecdotes, I can make it work. I’m good at this.”

“People want to believe in Spider-Man,” Talos added. “Make it sound true enough and they’ll believe anything.”

Peter froze. Mysterio was dying in front of him, _nowadays…they’ll believe anything_, that final little catch in his voice, _EDITH, is he…is this real?_ In that moment he'd known where the lines in his face would be in years to come. _All illusions are down, Peter_.

They were watching him, unsure what to make of his silence and stillness. He couldn’t see the stripes anymore, but suddenly their odd heartbeats made them seem unknowable, made him question his reading of expression and voice and posture. But before he could spiral into another round of doubt, he willed his shoulders to relax. Mysterio had said it as a taunt, a final cruelty or a slanted admission of his “contingencies.” Talos was just making an observation – a cynical one, but with years’ experience as a shapeshifter. And they were _trying_ to act human right now, so probably he could more or less trust his reading of them.

“Sorry,” he said, not wanting to explain further. “It’s just – how do you keep it straight? What’s true, who you are? How do you…um, sorry, this is going to sound really rude…how do you stay worthy of trust when you put so much effort into so many lies? Um. Sorry.”

Talos and Soren looked at each other, and Talos must have decided to hell with it, because no way would actual Director Fury smile that way at anyone, ever. There was so much wordless communication going on that even the utter strangeness of seeing himself and Nick Fury looking at each other that way didn’t keep him from thinking _they really are – lovers, spouses, however they think of it_.

“You sound just like our daughter,” Talos said finally. “We were so proud when she started asking those questions.”

“All of us can do this,” Soren said. “Physically. But you have to decide how deep the mask goes. You’re more convincing if you give yourself to your story so deeply you don’t have to think about it. But if you forget what’s mask and what’s you, then you’re only as trustworthy as your mask.” She shrugged. “I compartmentalize. Over here, Agent Hill. Over there, you. Elsewhere, others.” She smiled slightly. “I portray each as truthfully as I can – my life and others' depend on it. But also out of integrity. Respect. This is a gift and I will not abuse it.” Her smile vanished. “I don’t deceive lightly, Peter. We’ve all done it – childish pranks – but my life’s work is the safety of my family and my people. And, sometimes, of other good people.”

“Speaking of,” said Talos, “we really need to get moving. Peter, your aunt only needs to know that SHIELD has an agent who resembles you and an amazing makeup department.”

Peter led them down the stairs, frowning. It still didn’t feel right. Lying to Klahan, to his face or not, wasn’t going to feel good even if they somehow made it convincing.

Like he hadn’t been trying to fool everyone before? But blatantly denying who he was felt different from hiding it. Could he really say “I’m not Spider-Man” to Mr. Harrington? Mr. Delmar? Liz?

Mr. Stark hadn’t lied.

_But he was grown up_. Well, Peter was trying to be.

_But he was rich_. Pepper and Happy would spend sums he couldn’t even grasp for security. And if what they’d said earlier as they frantically strategized was true – something about Mr. Stark’s will and his twenty-first birthday – then maybe rich was somewhere in his future too. If he had people willing to spend for security now, then not having a lot of money in his own name yet shouldn’t be a reason to hide.

The apartment smelled like brownies, but none were in evidence, and May wasn’t there. Before he could panic, he heard her coming back down the hall, laughing to herself. She came in, saw them all standing in the kitchen, and her eyes got so big and her jaw dropped –

“It’s me, May!” he said quickly. “It’s me, it’s ok.”

Soren nodded. “It’s him,” she agreed in his voice. “He’s the real one, I’m just the Life Model De-” Talos cleared his throat loudly. Soren rolled her eyes.

May narrowed hers, looking between the two of them. “Yes,” she said. “I see.” She put the dish she was holding in the sink: empty but for crumbs, smelling of chocolate. “So now that I’ve got all the neighbors on this floor ready to take on aliens or even reporters with their bare hands for Peter, we’re doing cover-up shenanigans? Split the identities again?”

He was so tired of being split. Before and after his parents – before and after Ben – before and after the spider – before and after Vulture – _I don’t feel so good…I don’t know what’s happening…I don’t want to go…_ – he’d been pulled back together that time by others, just in time for _before and after Mr. Stark_.

May had helped him pull himself back together after that one, made him these brownies, held him, called Ned to come put Legos together with him, gotten Thai takeout or his favorite Delmar’s sandwich every day and made him eat them.

Ned had helped – they’d built the Death Star six times, because Ned kept dropping it. The first time it was awful. The crash and instant shattering had echoed every emotion he’d had since that awful day and he’d sobbed until he almost threw up, Ned frantically trying to reassure him it’s only Legos, dude, they’re famous for how you can put them back together, May understanding and just staying there next to him. The second time there was a moment when it could have been bad, but the look on Ned’s face made him howl with laughter instead, and every time after that it just got funnier. He’d swear the fifth time Ned had done it on purpose.

Being Spider-Man had helped. The little stuff. Giving directions, rescuing cats. (Except the one whose tag read Goose. His tingle had screamed at him when he started climbing towards it, and after attempting to side-eye the inside of his own head, he’d given that one a wide berth, watching from a rooftop across the street as it stared straight at him, licked itself in a way he felt he was meant to take personally, and then sauntered casually down the tree.)

MJ helped. Figuring him out. Putting him together, seeing how Spider-Man and Peter fit in one body. The electric moment in the Prague hotel when she’d stared at him and he’d absolutely known that she’d lied. That she knew both parts of him and wanted the one whole person in front of her. On the Tower Bridge, she’d held him as he stood there in his burned suit with his mask off, Spider-Man and Peter, and she’d pushed past her own fears, for him.

He wasn’t going to use what Soren offered. He wasn’t going to say, at age 21, _Hi Queens (and everybody else), actually I lied to you about not being Spider-Man, now please keep trusting me…_ He was going to go on patrol, then meet MJ, then come home by midnight so May could sleep.

Being whole was a gift. He wasn’t going to abuse it.


End file.
